


Mine

by Tsukino_Akume



Category: Meitantei Conan | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: Child Abuse, Families of Choice, Gen, Science Experiments, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-05
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2017-11-20 08:43:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/583418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tsukino_Akume/pseuds/Tsukino_Akume
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were a lot of things in his life Shinichi could blame the Black Organization for. But this ... this was one thing he hated them for more than anything, even when another part of him was grateful for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Title:** Mine  
>  **Fandom:** Detective Conan/Case Closed  
>  **Prompt:** experiments by evil scientists  
>  **Medium:** fic  
>  **Rating:** PG  
>  **Warnings:** Torture  
>  **Summary:** There were a lot of things in his life Shinichi could blame the Black Organization for. But this ... this was one thing he hated them for more than anything, even when another part of him was grateful for it.  
>  **Author's Notes:** I'm not entirely sure how this idea happened. I kind of blame it on browsing for pictures of Shinichi, and finding lots of him standing next to Conan. My mind wandered, and somehow ended up here. I have no idea where it's going as of yet, but there will definitely be lots of angst and fluff. Namely because there is a void of Shinichi &Conan fluff in this fandom, and I aim to fill it.
> 
> 'Ochibi-chan' is snagged from Prince of Tennis; it means 'little one', or 'little guy'. I thought it was appropriate.

It happened fast.

He remembered walking down the street, heading home from dropping off the kids. It hadn't been dark yet, so he wasn't concerned about calling anyone to walk him home, and Ran wouldn't get upset as long as he was home in time for dinner. He took his time, enjoying the peace and quiet to think. 

He remembered the sound of an engine behind him. It was slowing, for the light he'd assumed. He was too focused on the ground in front of him, lost in thought about the Black Organization, and the frustrating lack of information about them. There had been a screech of brakes, a door opening, movement behind him. 

A hand clamped over his mouth before he had the chance to scream. 

****

Pain. 

It started with beatings, someone shrouded in darkness snarling words he couldn't understand. There was blood everywhere; he thought it might be his own. His head hurt, and his vision was strangely fuzzy. He probably had a concussion. 

He couldn't tell how long the beatings went on, only that they stopped whenever he finally blacked out. The moment he was awake, they would start again. Different people, but always the same questions and he could never understand what they wanted. 

_"Wh ... Shi..i.. K...do?!"_

He wasn't scared, because he knew help would come. Help always came. Someone would find him. He just had to wait. 

_"Where - ?!"_

The beatings stopped. Instead there were needles, sharp things cutting into his skin and oh god, it hurt all over again. He screamed and screamed, but the people in white coats ignored him and no one ever came. 

More pain now. His skin was on _fire_ , his bones were melting, and oh god, he was _dying_. He had to be. 

And then it started again. 

He could feel his bones breaking, his muscles stretching and tearing. Over and over, melting and burning and being squeezed until he couldn't breathe. He screamed himself hoarse, begged and pleaded for mercy. He sobbed, well past any point of caring about his pride. 

He wanted to die. But he had to hold on, because they would come. They were looking, he knew it. He couldn't let them - _her_ \- down by giving up now. 

He just had to wait. 

****

The pain had finally stopped, but he wasn't sure if it was because it had actually stopped, or because he couldn't feel it anymore. 

Slowly he became more aware of himself. He felt ... strange. There was a dull ache that he couldn't place; it seemed to be everywhere. There was blood on his face and his chest hurt in a way that he thought was bad, but the burning and melting was finally gone and he couldn't bring himself to care about anything else. 

His vision was the first to return, but it wasn't much of a help. The room was dark, a row of bars lining one wall. There was a window, but it was tiny - too small to fit through even if he could reach it. There was a dim light coming through; not really enough for more than lightening some of the shadows. 

Hearing was next. It came slower than his eyesight had, and his head throbbed as sound finally began to register. There wasn't much to hear, but dripping water could be painfully loud in a silent room. He almost couldn't hear the crying. 

Wait. 

Someone was crying? 

He squinted, blinking hard as he tried to search for whatever could be making the sound. Lots of things sounded like crying, especially when your hearing was off. Wind. Kittens. 

There was a bundle in the corner of his cell. He squinted at it, but he couldn't tell anything in the darkness other than that it was soft - fabric most likely - and seemed to be shaking. And it was definitely where the crying was coming from. 

Moving ***hurt***. Hurt in ways he hadn't expected, and _God_ , how was he going to get out of here with so many injuries? At least one leg was broken, possibly the arm he was crawling on. His head was screaming, and it was hard to think straight. 

The bundle moved. 

He froze as large blue eyes slowly looked up to meet his. 

" ... Conan?" he croaked. 

The boy jumped, cringing and whimpering in fear, but his own eyes had already gone wide at the sound of his voice. 

Slowly he raised a hand in front of himself, staring at the long fingers, arms thin from lack of use. He turned it carefully, rotating his arm as he judged the length and mobility. His joints _burned_ , but he didn't care, already moving to feel slowly, carefully down the length of his torso, legs, and back up to hesitantly feel his face. 

The sudden sob caught him by surprise as it tore itself from his throat. _Please. ***Please*** don't let this be a dream. ***Please*** be real. I'll do anything, give anything, as long as it's real ..._

He wasn't even aware that he was crying until a tiny hand reached up to brush hesitantly against his cheek. 

They stared at one another. The boy flinched again, already too far backed into the corner to get away. But those huge, incredibly blue eyes were still so afraid. 

_This is ***impossible*.** _

_"How often have I said to you that when you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth."_

"Don't cry." 

It was barely a whisper and his throat ached for the effort. He wasn't even sure what made him say it. But it earned him another shocked stare, which was something. 

"Don't cry, Ochibi-chan," he whispered hoarsely. He reached out slowly, barely brushing his hand against the boy's cheek and watching eyes flutter closed in response. 

Something in his heart clenched. 

"You're mine now. I'll protect you."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter of this story has been lurking around my hard drive for ages, but I hadn't posted it because it skips about a month worth of time. It didn't seem fair to the readers or the story to do that. (In my defense, I originally started this story with a prompt from Hurt/Comfort Bingo, so I'd never actually planned it out past the prompt.)
> 
> I started lurking around the Detective Conan fandom again last night for some good fic and somehow the answer to how to continue this from the first chapter came to me. I still can't make any promises as to how often updates will come, but I hope you like it! ^.^;;
> 
> Note: Shinichi and Conan are both pretty OOC from this point. There'll be more explanation as the story continues, but I promise there's reasons for it.

"And this character makes it - "

"An adjective. She is a famous doctor." A tiny huff of a sigh, even as the small body in his lap leaned back against his chest. "I know this already." 

Shinichi smoothed a hand over the boy's hair. He hadn't been able to stop touching him once Conan had finally been convinced that he wouldn't hurt him. He couldn't explain why, exactly: just that there was something inside of him, something integral, that _demanded_ he keep Conan close. "And that's good, Ochibi-chan," he agreed, looking down at him. "But we're still not sure how much - " _\- was taken from you, left in my head instead of yours -_ "That you remember. That's why we're doing these exercises, so I can see what you know and what we need to remind you." 

'Remind', because the alternative explanation was confusing and terrifying for both of them. 

Conan shivered, curling into him a little more. "You said someone would come," he mumbled. 

The accusation in his tone hurt, but he knew what it was for really for. The time they'd waited in this cell had taught him a lot about his new companion. "They're looking for me," he promised quietly, wrapping his arms more securely around the boy. "They just don't know where we are." 

He had to believe that. Even if he'd lost count of how long Edogawa Conan had been missing, he had to believe that his friends, that Ran, the Shonen Tantei, Hattori, and the police force he'd worked with for so long, were still looking. That they hadn't lost hope and given up on ever finding him alive. 

That they had started to look for him at all. 

"What if they never come?" The words were barely a whisper, said more into the tattered remains of his hospital gown than anything. 

_They will,_ he told himself. _They have to._

He kissed the top of Conan's head. "Then we'll save each other," he promised. 

****

His resolve to wait lasted until the next time the guards came for him. 

"No!" Conan shrieked, grabbing for him desperately. " _No!_ You can't have him!" 

"Don't touch him!" he shouted furiously as one of the guards moved to kick Conan. He threw himself in the way just in time, and caught a foot to the ribs for his trouble. 

"Stop it!" 

"Conan," he hissed through his teeth as tiny hands grabbed at his gown. "Be _quiet_." Wide, tear-filled blue eyes looked up at him fearfully, and he tried to give a reassuring smile. "I'll be fine." he promised. 

Strong hands yanked at him again, and he forced himself to watch as Conan stared after him. 

_I'll be fine,_ he told them both silently, trembling in exhaustion and fear. _I'll be fine._

****

He woke to the sound of crying. 

"C-Conan?" he breathed, forcing the words from cracked and bleeding lips. His lungs and throat protested immediately, reducing him to painful, wracking coughs. He tried to calm his breathing, but the coughing persisted, turning to a deeper, tell-tale sound as he started to gag. 

Something pushed at him, forcing him onto his side as his stomach forcibly ejected the bit of food they'd been given earlier. His throat felt like it was on fire. The heaving stopped shortly, leaving a familiar metallic taste in his mouth as he hunched over the mess, trembling. Forcing his eyes open revealed what he'd expected: blood. 

He was running out of time. 

He forced himself to roll over, wiping a hand across his mouth. It took several moments to sit up, and he knew instantly that it was a bad idea. He ignored the fierce stab of pain in his side, looking up to see Conan staring at him solemnly. 

He'd hoped they'd leave him out of it, if he'd come quietly. But there was a new bruise on Conan's cheek, and track marks on his arm. He looked paler than before. 

"You're dying," the boy said softly, tears still lingering on his cheeks. "Aren't you." 

Shinichi's heart broke. 

"Hey," he croaked, reaching out to cup Conan's cheek. "Come here." 

Conan hesitated, and the slow, careful way he moved closer, wrapping his arms around Shinichi's chest in the gentlest hug he could possibly give, made it all the worse. "I don't want you to die," Conan whispered, voice trembling. He sniffled quietly. 

Shinichi hugged him as tightly as he could, kissing his head again. "I know," he murmured. "I know." 

He held the boy as close as he dared as Conan cried softly against his chest. A quick run of fingers through his hair assured him that he hadn't been hit in the head again. Besides the paleness of his skin from the blood they'd taken and the way he was trembling, he was as well as could be in their current situation. 

It would have to be enough.

**Author's Note:**

> * And for anyone who's interested, the alternate version of the title banner:  
> [First Title Banner Attempt](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/tsukino_akume/14946603/146537/146537_original.jpg)


End file.
